


Camisado

by Uchihas_rose



Category: His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:00:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24404686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Uchihas_rose/pseuds/Uchihas_rose
Summary: He should have known. The offer had been too good to be true. The problem wasn’t betraying James Moriarty, the problem was surviving long enough to actually get away with it.
Kudos: 6





	Camisado

**Author's Note:**

> Definition: A nocturnal ambush or surprising act of aggression
> 
> Camisado is a story I have written for a friend whos birthday is in a few days.
> 
> On the story: The story is playing in the His Dark Materials universe by Philip Pullman. It's a world pretty similar to our own; however, there is one huge difference: When a human is born, there is a part of his soul born outside of his body in the shape of an animal, called a Daemon. Usually, a daemon's gender is the opposite of a person's own and it's extremely rare to have a demon of the same gender as the human. Daemons can change their shapes to any animal or fable creature they want to, but they decide to settle in one shape when their child grows up. Humans and daemons can only be a short distance apart from each other.

„It has come to my attention”, Moriarty said, his back turned to the desk, looking outside the window, “that there have been some… Let’s say, misunderstandings about your recent mission.”  
His daemon, a huge magpie whose feathers shimmered blueish in the light, never turned her eyes away from him. Her beak was opened slightly, but no sound came from it. The bird hadn’t moved, not even when Moriarty had rose from his chair to stand by the window, almost like it’d been stuffed. She didn’t even blink, her eyes glued to the wolf hound curled next to the chair.  
Ludvik saw the slight tremble running over his daemon’s fur. He himself hid his own nervousness as best he could, not willing to show any weakness in front of the other. He couldn’t show weakness, not in the position he was in.  
“I sincerely fear that I do not understand what you could possibly be referring to, Mr. Moriarty”, he said, his voice as calm as possible, “I have fulfilled everything as it was instructed by the Koreans.”

The setting sun lit Moriarty’s face, showing Ludvik a short tension in the other’s lips but it was gone as quick as the sun ray.  
“Yes, the Koreans…”, Moriarty said, holding out his hand to touch his daemon’s head. The magpie blinked once upon the soft touch before her eyes fixed back on the dog, her head crooked sideways.  
Ludvik shifted slightly in his seat.  
“Do remind me again, though-“, Moriarty turned around, his head tilting to mirror his daemon, “was it the North or the South Koreans who you sold the plans to?”  
The thin lips twitched in a smile.

Ludvik felt a sudden dampness on the back of his shirt. He swallowed, tried to speak, but his mouth was dry. The wolf hound leapt to her feet, tail raised in alarm.  
He should have known. The offer had been too good to be true. The problem wasn’t betraying James Moriarty, the problem was surviving long enough to actually get away with it. 

“I have to admit you did manage to pull the wool over my eyes for quite a while”, Moriarty went on, his tone still cheerful as if he’d be talking about some exciting new discovery rather than a betrayal in his criminal web which he had spun all over London and possibly the whole world, “it was rather by chance that I was informed of this latest false play and of course I had to investigate afterwards. I do hate detective work, though, so you can be certain there will be some dire consequences for that…”  
The magpie had stretched her wings. She was larger than her regular kin, almost as large as a crow. Her sharp claws tapped the desk excitedly, leaving marks in the dark wood.  
Moriarty had walked around the table, leaning against it now, his feet crossed over one another. As usual, he wore a perfectly tailored Westwood suit and the skulls on the dark-blue tie shimmered white in the half-light.  
“Oh, yes, it was a very tiresome thing to do… All that digging and double-checking, figuring out the exact moment when you had decided to cross me… Tracking down your bank accounts – it does please me to know that your betrayal wasn’t sold cheap, by the way, but I do fear you will not have much pleasure with the money this latest back stabbing has brought you.”  
Ludvik tried to open his mouth but failed. Moriarty didn’t even look at him – he was inspecting his fingernails, blowing some invisible speck of dust off them.

“I have had my suspicions about you from the start”, Moriarty continued, pretending not to notice how Ludvik found it more and more difficult to remain calm in his seat, his face turning slightly pale, “but I do have to admit, I had not expected someone outside of London to try and undermine my organisation. The British Government, yes, maybe some up jumped cutthroat from a rival in London, most definitely some cutthroat, but this… No. This is almost… disappointing.”  
He lifted his head and smiled at Ludvik, a cold, satisfied smile that didn’t reach his eyes and went straight to Ludvik’s bones, freezing him.  
Even if he had had a chance to run away now, his body wouldn’t be obeying him. His daemon pressed her head against his knee. She too seemed unable to move. 

“Well?”, Moriarty prompted, arching an eyebrow invitingly, “aren’t you going to tell me how terribly wrong I am, that I have made a terrible mistake, that you swear it’ll never happen again, that you are so very sorry and I have to forgive you? You wouldn’t be the first person who’ll try to save their pathetic life with some whining and lies and you will definitely not be the last. So, is there anything you’d wish to say? Now is the last chance.”  
How?, Ludvik wanted to ask. Moriarty did not like to get his hands dirty, that was well known to all criminal organisations around the world. As Moriarty’s right hand it had been his job to take care of all the rats in the organisation, but would Moriarty really expect him to kill himself? The man was supposed to be a genius, he couldn’t seriously believe-  
Something moved behind the window curtain. Just a shadow, Ludvik told himself, watching it grow, some passing car, maybe, or a reflection of some streetlamps.  
The shadow continued to grow, taking the shape of something huge, with four legs, a round head…  
Maybe just some stray cat outside, passing by a streetlamp…  
Ludvik tried to hold on to this suggestion, even as the shadow opened green glowing eyes and darted forward.

A huge tiger had emerged from the shadows and, before Ludvik was able to say or do anything, he had landed on the wolf hound, pinning her down to the ground.  
Ludvik gasped, but he didn’t dare moving, not when the tiger held his daemon in his sharp claws and his teeth were only inches from the dog’s throat.  
He was a daemon, beyond any doubt, but who’s? There was no one else in the room, was there?  
His eyes darted around the room, trying to spot another human figure, but failed.  
Once again, Ludvik felt frozen to his chair. He swallowed notably, his Adam’s apple twitching.  
His gaze fixed on Moriarty again, who had sat down in his leather chair, gently stroking the magpie’s feathers, still smiling, apparently satisfied by the visible terror on Ludvik's face.  
The tiger was growling, his claws running almost gently over the dog’s sensitive underbelly; only a layer of skin and fur separating these daggers from turning the daemon to fine, glittering dust and ending Ludvik’s own life as well.  
He could almost feel the sharp tips digging into his own stomach, his breath becoming shallow, while Moriarty kept smiling, the dark eyes sparkling, his fingers still stroking the magpie. The bird’s eyes glistened maliciously, her gaze not wavering from the other two daemons.  
Ludvik thought he could sense some excitement coming off the magpie, her claws flexing slightly, and his mouth went dry. He had seen the bird in that state before and he knew his fate was sealed. He would die this day, most likely by the hands – or rather the fangs – of the tiger daemon.  
But who did that daemon belong to? Ludvik knew every member of Moriarty’s organisation, but he knew of none with a tiger daemon, be it male or female, and especially a woman with a tiger daemon would have been known in London. But on the other hand, so would have any man with a male tiger daemon, especially since it was exceptionally rare for a person and their daemon to have the same gender.  
The tiger was still torturing the dog, his claws running almost lovingly through the white fur. The wolf hound whimpered, looking helplessly to Ludvik who was still glued to his chair and didn’t even dare breathing out loud. 

“I am waiting”, Moriarty said in a high sing-song, rolling a pen between his fingers, “you do realise this really is your last chance to ever say anything, you know, so you better come with something... Patriotic or heroic or anything like that. It can also be something entirely whiny and pathetic, though. The choice is really up to you. No? Still nothing? Oh, well... Let me introduce your replacement to you, then.”  
He placed the pen back into the neatly kept secretary on the desk and snapped his fingers. 

Once again, the shadows behind Moriarty’s desk moved. This time they unveiled a man, tall, lean, with reddish blonde hair covering his head and blue eyes. He wore combat boots, a black V-neck shirt and cargo pants. Two silver dog tags dangled on a chain around his neck, tingling quietly with every step, until he stopped next to Moriarty’s desk. The tiger made a soft rumble deep in his throat, his tail twitching slightly. 

Moriarty's smile grew wider.  
“Please allow me to introduce Colonel Sebastian Augustus Moran, formerly of the 1st Bangalore Pioneers. You may or may not have heard of him. He has only recently arrived from India, so please don’t give his appearance too harsh of a judgement.”  
Moran casually drew a knife and started spinning it between his fingers, his eyes fixing on Ludvik like a tiger's on its prey, waiting for the right moment to pounce.  
“You really ought to think about your last words now, you know”, the Colonel said, taking a step closer, knife in one hand. A speck of light, cast by the lanterns outside the window, reflected on the blade.  
The tiger growled, saliva dripping from the sharp teeth. Ludvik thought he could feel it on his own skin and he flinched.  
The magpie cawed mockingly and it sounded like laughter. She moved closer to her human, settling on his shoulders to have a better view of the scene before her.  
Ludvik’s mouth opened, his lips trembling; something like a sound even managed to roll over his tongue but it was incomprehensible, even for him.  
Was he pleading? Was he defending himself, his actions? Or was it an angry scorn hissed at the King of London’s underworld? He didn’t know.  
His daemon whined quietly, but what could he do? His clothes were wet with sweat by now. The silence was stretching uncomfortably, making him even more nervous than he already was. He knew he was about to die, but he also knew neither of the two man would be granting him the mercy of a quick death. He had betrayed Moriarty and his business and this meant a slow and painful demise.

The Colonel tilted his head, lips forming a broad grin, showing shiny white teeth in his tanned face.  
“Well, if you don’t want to talk, let me make sure you’ll scream at least.”


End file.
